


Domestic Problems

by Angstqueen



Category: Counterstrike (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angstqueen/pseuds/Angstqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had already been a long day but Stone and Peter had no idea of the danger lurking in Stone's bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domestic Problems

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally published in the Neon Rainbow Press zine "One in Ten #2" under the pen name Lee Seibert.

 

Peter Sinclair grabbed the key-ring from his partner, opening Hector Stone's apartment door and shoving the taller man through.  He slammed the door behind them with enough force to rattle the windows.

"Hey, Pete!  Relax, for Christ's sake," Stone admonished, watching the blond restlessly pace his small rooms.

"Relax," Sinclair finally ground out.  "How the hell am I supposed to _relax_ with you pulling asinine stunts?"

"I got the job done, boss," the other man reminded him laconically, throwing his keys on top of his television set.

"And I told you no bullets!  I wanted Reis alive, damn it!"

"You didn't say you wanted him alive," the ex-SEAL pointed out.  "You said no bullets.  You didn't say anything about a knife."

"I shouldn't have had to!  But I'll bloody well know better next time.  Meanwhile, Reis is dead.  And of no use to us."  Peter's deadly quiet tone gave further proof of the depth of his anger.

"His information was probably bogus anyway, Pete!  _Think_ about it.  The man would've sold his mother to beat that rap."  Stone used his last ace in the hole.  "Besides, if I hadn't taken him down, he would've shot Gabby.  Would that have made you any happier?"

"You bastard," Sinclair hissed, whirling to confront his partner face to face.  "You know it wouldn't!  But aren't you conveniently forgetting that Reis had two of his bodyguards on the catwalks?  If J.J. hadn't spotted them, you'd have several new holes in your chest right now."

"Ah," Stone nodded.  "So now we come to it.  You're not mad 'cause I killed the guy.  You're pissed because **I** almost got killed.  Right?"

"Don't flatter yourself, sunshine!" the ex-Met detective sneered.

"C'mon, Pete!  There's nothin' wrong with admitting you were scared.  It's not a crime, for Christ's sake!"

"Scared?"  With lightening speed Sinclair backed his partner against the wall. He knew Stone could easily break free, but didn't care at this point.  "You're bloody damned right I was scared, Sport.  I saw your life flash before my eyes."

"That's always been one of the risks of us bein' lovers, Pete.  You know that." Stone didn't resist, or try to free himself.  He knew what lay behind his partner's mood.

Without stopping to consider, Sinclair pulled Stone into a fierce kiss.  When he met with neither encouragement or resistance he gentled the contact, coaxing his partner's cooperation.

Stone opened his mouth to the now-teasing invader, moaning as Peter tickled the roof of his mouth.  The blond broke contact first, gasping for air.

"Christ, Stone, what you do to me," Sinclair gasped, pressing closer so the other man could feel his hard cock.

"I could take care of that for you," husked the dark-haired man, his hand lightly brushing Sinclair's groin.  Then he nipped Peter's earlobe, grinning as the other man jumped.

"Bastard," Peter whispered.  Breaking contact, he paced the small room again.

"Pete?"  Confused, Stone said, "I thought you wanted—"

"I _know_ what you thought!  And you weren't wrong."

"So what's the problem?"

Taking a deep breath, the blond tried to explain.  "I've lost partners before.  Whether you're friends or not, it's never easy.  But a lover, that's something different."  He shook his head.  "I told myself that because you were a man I could handle it.  That I could watch you risk your life and not worry any more than if we were just partners.  But I was fooling myself."

Stone still didn't understand.  They'd been lovers for over four months, and in that time both had been in potentially dangerous situations.  So why the problem now?  Seeing his partner had more to say, Stone kept silent.

"At first it wasn't so bad.  But as we became more… involved, I found myself having difficulty separating this," the blond waved his hand, including them both, "from the job.  Today brought home to me just how bad it's gotten."

"Pete, listen, it's gonna happen one day.  It's the nature of the job."

"I know, but—"

"No.  No 'buts', Pete."  Taking several steps forward, Stone gripped his partner's arm tightly.  "I'm only gonna say this once, so listen close.  I love you, Peter Sinclair.  And I intend to be around a long time proving it to you."  He swallowed hard.  He hadn't said those three words since Vicki.  Hadn't wanted to.  Until Sinclair had broken down his barriers.  "This job gave me purpose after Vicki died.  And loving you... that's given me a sense of belonging I haven't had for a long time.  I'm not about to screw that up by takin' stupid risks."

"Then how do you explain today?"

Frustrated, the ex-SEAL snapped, "You're not listenin', are you?  Look, I'm a trained professional.  I survived 'Nam and came home in one piece.  D'you really think that after all this time I've suddenly developed a death wish?"

"No," Peter reluctantly admitted.

"It's not like you to be so skittish, Pete.  What's up?"

Detecting no censure or impatience in the question, only genuine concern, Sinclair sought an answer within himself.  After a few moments, he shook his head, frustrated.  "I don't know, Stone.  Call it instinct, a hunch.  Whatever you want.  But I can't shake this feeling that there's danger ahead of us.  Real danger.  Worse than usual."  He waited for his partner's reaction.

"Okay, fair enough."  Surprisingly, Stone took his words seriously.  "Then we _both_ promise to be extra careful.  Deal?"

Peter studied him suspiciously, suspecting he was being laughed at.  But Stone's expression reassured him.  "Deal."

"Good.  Then is there any reason we can't get back to what we started?"

Sinclair laughed.  He couldn't help it.  "You're a randy sod, aren't you?"

"Me!"  Stone pretended innocence.  "Who threw who against the wall, pal?"

"I'll do it again if you don't behave," Sinclair threatened, taking two steps forward.

"Ooohh, I'm scared," the ex-SEAL shivered.

"You should be."  Peter backed his partner against the wall a second time.

"Ouch!"  Stone yelped as his head connected with more force than expected.

"Oh, did you hurt yourself?" the blond inquired sympathetically.

"Fuck you," his partner replied mildly.

"Oh, no."  Peter shook his head, pressing even closer.  "Fuck _you_ , Stone.  And I intend to one of these days."

"Sounds promising."  Stone shifted position.  Pete had him pinned by the arms.  He didn't resist, knowing his partner didn't intend to harm him.

"You haven't seen anything yet," Sinclair growled.  He reached out, pulling Stone into a kiss.

"Mmm," the ex-SEAL murmured, opening his mouth to deepen the contact.  He slipped his arms around his partner, molding them closer.

Peter attacked the buttons on Stone's shirt, nearly ripping them off in his haste to reach skin.

"Hey, easy lover!  That's one of my favorite shirts," Stone protested, wriggling as Pete's exploring fingers found ticklish spots.

"So I'll buy you another," the blond retorted, fingers teasing a nipple until it hardened.

Stone retaliated by grabbing Sinclair's ass and squeezing, grinding their hips together.  Leaning forward, he nipped his partner's earlobe.  "I ain't that easily bought, sweetheart."

"Ahh," Peter moaned, feeling his lover's erection pressing against his hip.  "My mistake.  How can I make it up to you?"

Grinning widely, the dark-haired man whispered, "I'm sure you'll think of something."  He began his own assault on Sinclair's clothing.  The cream colored heavy knit sweater went first, as Stone pushed it up over his partner's head, then threw it over a nearby chair.  Next he unfastened Sinclair's leather belt, sliding it free from his pants, then slowly unsnapping them and pulling the zipper down.

Sinclair pushed the flannel shirt from Stone's shoulders, sliding his hands down the well-muscled torso until he reached the waistband of the tight jeans.  Grinning dangerously, he palmed the obvious bulge of Stone's erection.

"Is that for me?"

"It could be," the other man hissed, bucking forward.  "If you want it."

"Oh, I do," Sinclair whispered, quickly unfastening the jeans and pulling them and the white briefs over narrow hips.

"All in good time, Pete."  Stone grabbed his partner's shoulders for balance while he kicked off his boots.  Stepping out of his jeans and briefs, the dark-haired man went to his knees, pulling Sinclair's pants and briefs down.  Skimming his fingers lightly over Pete's thighs, he grinned at the strangled groan, watching his lover's cock twitch in anticipation.

"Stone—"

He knew what Pete wanted.  Grabbing the base of the thick shaft in one hand, he closed his lips around the head, letting his tongue explore.  With his free hand, he kneaded the heavy balls.

"Ahhh," Sinclair moaned as the sensations threatened his control.  He grabbed Stone's head, trying to thrust deeper.

But the ex-SEAL wouldn't let him.  He backed off, climbing to his feet and pulling Sinclair into a searching kiss that left them both breathless.

"Close…  Damn it, Stone, I'm so close."  Pete whispered, raining soft kisses over his partner's face.  He'd never been with anyone who got him so hot so quick.

"Not yet; not like this.  I want you, Pete," Stone husked, taking a step back.  Meeting Sinclair's confused gaze, he grabbed his lover's hand, urging him toward the bed.  "Fuck me."

Pete's eyes widened almost comically.  They'd both come close a time or two, but something always held them back.  He needed no second invitation this time.

Stone lay down on his back, reaching for the KY tube he kept on the bedside table.  Tossing it to Sinclair, he grinned wolfishly.  "Now's your chance.  I'm all yours, sweetheart."

The blond climbed into bed, carefully straddling his lover's hips.  Placing his hands on either side of Stone's head, Pete leaned forward, stealing a gentle kiss.

"You sure you want it this way?  Bound to be more uncomfortable the first time."

"I wanna see your face.  Watch you lose control."

"Oh?"  Sinclair arched an eyebrow.  "Very sure of ourself, aren't we?"

"No.  Very sure of you."

With a teasing grin, the blond squeezed some of the gel onto his finger.  Rimming the pucker of muscle guarding the entrance to Stone's body, he gently slipped a finger inside.

Stone's mouth fell open as his breathing went erratic.  When Sinclair added a second finger the ex-Seal moaned.

"Christ, Pete…"

Knowing his lover couldn't hold out much longer, Sinclair nevertheless carefully inserted a third finger.  He wanted Stone as open as possible.  He stole a breathless kiss as he eased the fingers out, moving into position over his partner.

Squeezing out more KY, he quickly lubricated his cock, knowing he was pretty close to the edge himself.

"Wait a minute.  I—"  Stone shifted to the left, then his eyes widened.  "Eeyyahh!  Shit!"

"Stone, what the hell—?  I didn't even…"  Sinclair's voice trailed off as his partner scrambled out of bed, hand pressed to his left ass cheek.

"Fuckin' A!"  He pulled his hand away, staring at the blood smeared across his palm.

"My God, Stone!  What happened?"  Peter quickly climbed from the bed, searching his partner for the source of the blood.  A deep cut split Stone's left buttock almost from side to side.  Sinclair saw telltale spots of blood on the sheet and put two and two together.  "Your mattress again.  Damn it, Stone, I thought you replaced it after the first time it got you!"

The other man shook his head.  "No.  It didn't happen again and I forgot about it.  Haven't even been here that much lately."

"Well, that does it.  Tomorrow we go shopping for a new one."  Taking a closer look at his partner's wound, Sinclair frowned.  "That's looks deep.  I think we should get you to a hospital.  Might need stitches.  A tetanus shot at the least."

"No way, Pete!  It's just a scratch," the dark-haired man protested, coloring at the thought of having to explain how this had happened.

"That's a hell of a lot more than a scratch and you know it, Sport.  Besides, I'd rather take care of it now than have to explain the problem to Alexander later.  Wouldn't you?"

Stone gave it some thought.  "Good point."

"Have you got a first aid kit?  Or guaze pads?  Something we can use to cover that until we get you to the hospital."

"Yeah.  In the bathroom."  Stone climbed onto the bed, carefully avoiding the trouble spot.  He settled on his stomach, waiting for Peter's return.

"Hmm, nice view."  Sinclair sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to lightly smack the uninjured side.

"Ouch!  Don't you think you've done enough to me tonight?"  the ex-Seal accused.

"Me?  When did this become my fault?"  Sinclair swabbed the blood from the wound, carefully cleansing it with peroxide.  Stone tensed but didn't protest.  It took all of Stone's remaining gauze pads and tape to cover the wound, but it served the purpose.

"Think you can get dressed?" Peter wondered, watching his partner climb stiffly to his feet.

Arching an eyebrow, Stone retorted,  "Well, I ain't gonna walk in buck naked, now am I?"  He found a pair of loose fitting navy blue sweat pants and carefully stepped into them.  Peter winced, watching the other man pull the sweats over his hips.

Sinclair quickly donned his own clothing.  Grabbing his keys, he waited for Stone to get his sneakers on.

"This is stupid, y'know," Stone groused again.

"Move."  Peter held the door open, ushering his friend out.

"You're enjoying this too much."

"I'd have been enjoying what was so rudely interrupted even better, Stone.  Now get going."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Two hours and twenty-two stitches later an attractive female resident was finishing properly dressing the wound.  She glanced occasionally from her patient to his friend, standing casually in the doorway.

"So, how did you say this happened?"  Dr. Jeanne Bonally had her own ideas, but wanted to hear it firsthand.

"I didn't," Stone said, turning his head to avoid his partner's grin.  "I guess a spring in my mattress got me."

"I see."  The doctor fought back her own grin as she administered a tetanus shot.  "I suggest you get a new mattress.  Soon.  Otherwise this could really kill your sex life."  She glanced from the crack of Stone's ass, where Peter had forgotten to clean off the KY, to Sinclair's suddenly beet-red face.

Hearing her tone of voice, Stone turned his head in time to catch his partner's expression.  Hooting with laughter, the ex-Seal said, "Hey, Pete, your shirt's buttoned wrong!"

"Sod!"  Sinclair stalked out into the hallway, unwilling to be party to the doctor's prying queries.

Stone continued to chuckle as Dr. Bonally helped him sit up.

"Please apologize to your friend," the doctor requested.

"Why?  I loved it."

A smile quirked her lips.  "I know.  That's partly why I did it.  I see all sorts of injuries, especially at this hour of night.  Yours is quite tame.  But he was having a good time at your expense and it made me a little mad, that's all."

"Well, I appreciate the thought, Doc.  But I really can take care of myself."  Stone carefully hopped off the bed.  "Thanks for everything."

"No problem.  Come back in ten days to have those stitches out.  And until then, no rigorous sex.  And stay away from man-eating mattresses, okay?" she smiled, holding the door open for him.

Sinclair met them, his shirt now buttoned neatly and his collar turned down.  Stone struggled to bite back his laughter.

"You set?"  Peter looked from one to the other.

"Yeah.  Let's get the hell out of here."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Two blocks from the hospital, Stone asked, "Where're we going?"

"I thought we'd spend what little of the night is left at my place," Sinclair said.  "At least we don't have to worry about broken springs."

Picking up on his friend's tone of voice, Stone snapped, "Hey, listen, Pete.  This hasn't been a picnic for me either.  I know you're a bit frustrated but—"

"Frustrated?  That doesn't even begin to cover it!"

Surprised, the dark-haired man studied his companion.  "What's your problem, Pete?"

"What's my—?"  Sinclair took his eyes off the road long enough to glare at his partner.  "You!  You're my problem.  First you're flirting with the damned doctor, then you're laughing at me!"

"I wasn't laughing at you.  Really."  Knowing they had to settle this, Stone continued, "Look, Pete, she's a doctor.  She sees a lot more kinkier stuff than a man bringing his lover in 'cause he cut his ass.  So it gives her something to laugh at for a hour or two.  So what?  And yeah, she was cute.  But I don't want to take her to bed.  Not tonight and not in the future.  Okay?"

Peter blew out a heavy sigh.  "I'm sorry.  I'm being a right prat, aren't I?"

"This hasn't been one of your better moments, no."  Stone grinned to take the sting out.  "But considering where we stopped I'm not surprised.  I'll make it up to you."

Sinclair's look spoke volumes.  "Count on it."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Slamming the apartment door shut behind them, Peter threw his keys into the bowl on the table.  He watched his partner prowl the neat living room.

"We should try to get some sleep.  Alexander's expecting us bright and early."  Sinclair checked his watch, frowning.  "And that's in just a few hours."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right."  Stone took several steps toward the bedroom before noticing his partner hadn't moved.  "You coming, Pete?"

"No.  I think I'll sleep out here.  You know how restless I get.  Wouldn't want to bump into you."

"You're punishing me, aren't you?  Look—"

"No, I'm _not_ punishing you.  If anything, I'm doing us both a favor.  How much sleep do you really think we'll get in the same bed?  Hmm?"  Closing the distance between them, Sinclair kissed the other man gently.  "There'll be plenty of time for that.  Later."

"You sure I can't change your mind?" the ex-SEAL questioned mournfully.

"Go!  Get some sleep."  Peter laughed at his partner's mock pout.  But the other man finally turned and headed into the bedroom.

An hour later found Sinclair still tossing and turning on the sofa.  Not that it was all that uncomfortable; he'd slept in worse places.  But knowing Stone slept just beyond that bedroom door had his balls tied into knots.

A light breath of air tickling his ear startled him and he shot to his feet.  It could only be Stone.

"What the bloody hell are you playing at, Stone!  It's damned lucky for you I don't sleep with my gun."  Sinclair took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

"Sorry, I thought you heard me." 

Peter heard the grin.  Reaching for the light on the end table, he flicked it on. Studying his partner, he asked, "Is something wrong?  Are you hurting?"

"Nope."  Perching his good hip on the back of the couch, the ex-SEAL eyed his friend.  "But you are.  I can hear you tossing and turning even behind closed doors."

"I'm fine," Pete snapped.  "I just—"

"Need a good hand job.  I know."  Stone grinned at the "drop-dead" look Sinclair shot his way.  "I can take care of that for you, y'know."

The temptation to give in nearly won.  But Sinclair's own sense of decency overrode the impulse.

"No.  It wouldn't be fair."

"I don't get what your problem is with this, Pete!  Did it ever occur to you that I might be in the same state?  I'm in _your_ bed, lying on _your_ sheets, smelling you.  And you're not there!"  Stone tried again.  "I'm not made of glass, Sinclair.  I'm not gonna break, I promise."

After another moment's consideration Peter finally said, "Okay, you win.  But nothing strenuous, understood?"

"You're the boss."

They walked into the bedroom.  Sinclair turned on a small table lamp before shutting the door.  He turned back to his partner, surprised to find Stone watching him with hungry eyes.  At times he still had trouble believing their passion was mutual.

Stone stepped forward, reaching out to unbutton Pete's shirt.  When he reached the waist he tugged the shirt free of the jeans, caressing the skin beneath.

Sinclair went straight for his lover's sweatpants, pushing them down over Stone's hips.  He carefully avoided putting pressure on the injured cheek.

They picked up the pace, both eager to get the other undressed and into bed. Stone maneuvered them closer to the bed, backing Sinclair up until he fell backward onto the mattress.  The ex-detective grinned, tugging at Stone's arm until the other man joined him.

They traded gentle kisses which steadily grew in intensity as hands grew more bold and demanding.  Sinclair groaned when his lover's hand finally closed on his erection.

"Ah, yes."  The blond closed his eyes as the sensations overwhelmed him.  He bucked his hips in a demand for more contact.  Words failed him as orgasm temporarily shorted out his thought processes.  When the universe finally stopped spinning he opened his eyes to find his lover watching him.  Kissing him gently, Sinclair said, "Thanks, Stone.  Now it's my turn."

Stone, already excited by his lover's response, only needed a brief touch before he climaxed.  Relaxing against his partner he whispered, "Now, doesn't that feel better?"

"Smug bastard," Sinclair returned.  Wrapping his arm around Stone's waist, Peter kissed the other man.  "Go to sleep."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Alexander Addington looked up as the last two members of his team arrived.  "Ah, there you are."

Before Stone could venture an explanation, Peter stepped in.  "Sorry to be late, sir.  Stone's motorcycle wouldn't start and I had to fetch him."

Gabrielle's look challenged the statement, but she kept her thoughts to herself.  Such as the realization that Stone was actually wearing a pair of Sinclair's sweatpants.  A discreet cough covered her grin.

"Very well.  Have a seat while I explain what's going on."

Peter took his usual chair, while Stone elected to stand off to one side.  Addington noticed but didn't comment.

The industrialist went on to outline their next assignment.   They would be setting up security for a charity ball Addington Industries hosted annually.  They had three weeks' time to prepare.

During his outline, Alexander couldn't help but notice that Stone not only wouldn't sit down, he couldn't stand still either.  Finally, patience wearing thin, the wealthy man snapped, "Mr. Stone, is there some problem that I'm unaware of?"

"No, sir."  Stone froze in his tracks.

"Then stop pacing like a caged animal!"

"Yes, sir."  Aware of all eyes now focused on him, Stone carefully perched on the arm of Sinclair's chair.

Peter couldn't hold back his snicker of amusement, which earned him a glare from his partner.

Alexander, who'd turned back to his desk, spun to face the duo.  "And what do you find so amusing, Mr. Sinclair?" the older man asked silkily.  He wasn't really annoyed, but it didn't hurt to keep the team guessing.

"Uh, nothing, sir."  The ex-detective straightened in his chair, carefully keeping his eyes off his partner.  He fought to keep the grin off his face, knowing it would only make the situation worse.

They were saved by Alexander's phone.  The industrialist first glanced at it in annoyance, then snatched it up.  "Yes!  I'm rather busy, Jeffrey.  Can't it wait?  Very good.  What?  He's fine as far as I know.  You're sure?  Yes, thank you very much.  I'll have Ms. Previn make luncheon arrangements for later this week.  Good-bye."

Turning back to the team, he said, "Now, where were we?  Oh yes, the charity ball.  That should take care of matters for now.  As there's nothing pressing going on, I suggest you check out the location, familiarize yourselves with the layout.  That'll be all for now."

Alexander let them get as far as the door before calling, "Mr. Stone, may I see you for a moment?"

The ex-SEAL stopped in his tracks, then slowly turned back.  He looked for all the world like a schoolboy about to be disciplined.  Alexander found himself fighting back a smile of his own.  He noted the slow, careful way the other man walked.

Peter had halted at the elevator, motioning Gabrielle and J.J. to continue without him.  He didn't know why Addington had detained Stone, but he wanted to find out.

"Peter, I don't remember asking for you," Alexander said, looking at the blond.

"No, sir.  You didn't, but I—"

"Never mind, Peter.  You may as well take a seat.  I was going to question you later, depending on what Mr. Stone tells me."

"Sir?"  Stone stood in front of the massive desk.  "About what, Mr. Addington?"

"I'm getting to that!"  Alexander grabbed his cane, limping around to stand at Stone's side.  The ex-SEAL didn't meet his gaze, but didn't flinch away, either.  "That phone call was from Sir Jeffrey Baum, administrator of Our Lady of Mercy hospital.  He asked me if you were all right.  Seems he saw you being wheeled into a treatment room last night.  Is there something I should know, Mr. Stone?  Are you ill?"

"No, Mr. A.  I'm fine," Stone hastened to assure.  He tried to keep from looking over at his partner, knowing Sinclair's expression would give them both away.

"Hmm.  Why don't I believe you, Mr. Stone?"  Addington turned to Sinclair.  "Mr. Baum also recognized you, Peter.  Care to fill me in?"

"Uh, not really, sir.  I was just an innocent bystander.  I don't have all the details."  Sinclair barely swallowed his laughter.  He made himself comfortable on the arm of a lounge chair.

"I see."  Addington limped to the far side of the room, turning to face his two employees.  "Gentlemen, I'm disappointed in both of you.  I thought we'd established a level of trust between us.  Now I don't know what went on last night, but rest assured if you don't tell me I _will_ find out.  When it comes to the health of my team—"

Stone cut in.  "I'm fine, Mr. A.  Honest."

"The hell you say!" the industrialist snapped.  "You couldn't sit down for a half-hour meeting; couldn't even stand still!  I want answers, damn it!"

The ex-SEAL hung his head, and Sinclair got the distinct impression his partner would have rather faced a firing squad.  Peter quickly coughed to cover his snicker.  This was getting better and better.

"Ah, damn it."  Knowing he had no choice, Stone said, "I had a little accident at my apartment last night.  It, uh, required some stitches.  In a rather... embarrassing spot."

"Embarrassing spot?" Addington pressed.

Peter couldn't hold back his laughter any longer.  Stone's glare and Addington's surprised look only added fuel and the ex-detective nearly fell from the chair.

"Ah, Stone, I always said you were a real pain in the ass," Peter gasped, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.  "Guess there won't be a full moon this month!"

"Sinclair—" Stone ground out, taking three steps in his partner's direction before Addington's cane intervened.  Out of respect for his employer, the ex-SEAL halted.

"Mr. Sinclair, I suggest you guard your tongue.  Our Mr. Stone is not pre-disposed to patience this morning," Alexander advised.  His own lips quirking, Addington lowered his cane.  "I don't suppose you'd satisfy an old man's curiosity as to exactly how this came about?"

Seeing a chance to get some of his own back, Stone grinned.

Sinclair caught it and his face drained of color.  Surely his partner wouldn't—?  He couldn't!

"Stone—" the blond implored.

"Actually, sir, I wasn't going to say anything.  But since you insist…"

"Yes, go on!" Alexander snapped.

"Well, this was all Peter's fault."  Over his partner's objections, Stone continued, "See, we were having this argument at my place and it got a little out of hand.  We were wrestling around and I landed on the bed.  Guess a spring broke.  When I moved to get up, well, you get the picture."

The industrialist winced, nodding.  "Yes, I do, indeed."

It was Stone's turn to swallow his laugh as Sinclair slowly regained his composure.  He could read his partner like a book and knew what Peter had feared. The relief proved to be short-lived as Addington rounded on Peter.

"I think you have some reparations to make, Mr. Sinclair, don't you?"

"Sir?" Peter choked.

"Wrestling is a sport best kept to the gym in future.  And since your actions are directly responsible for Mr. Stone's... injury, I believe a good way of making amends would be to replace his obviously worn-out mattress."  When Sinclair opened his mouth to protest, Addington cut him off.  In a silky smooth tone he said, "Ah, ah.  Considering your actions cost Mr. Stone a trip to the emergency room, I don't think that's too much to ask, do you?"

Stone smirked.  This had turned out to have hidden benefits after all.  He should have played it up from the start.

"No sir, I suppose not."  Glancing at his partner, Sinclair grated out, "Well, we'd better get going, Sport.  Wouldn't want you to have to worry about the same thing happening tonight, would we?"

"Right behind you, boss."  Stone followed his partner to the elevator.

Once inside, Sinclair backed Stone against the wall, ignoring the yelp of pain.  "You bastard!  You did that deliberately!"

"Hey, I was just tryin' to even the score.  How was I supposed to know the boss would believe me.  Or make you pay?" Stone protested, squirming as tender flesh objected to the rough treatment.

"Damn bloody convenient, I'd say."

"Oh, come on, Pete!  You're still his golden boy and you know it.  If the shoe had been on the other foot he'd have made me pay the hospital bill, buy you a new bed _and_ pay your salary until the stitches came out."  Stone's voice held no envy or malice, merely recognition of the facts.

The statement, however outrageous, made Sinclair laugh.  Throwing up his hands and backing away, he said, "You're right.  And in truth I brought it on myself.  I shouldn't have thrown you in the deep end."

"Yeah, but I'm a SEAL, remember?"  Stone grinned, all teeth.  "I can swim through just about anything."

Knowing he had time before the elevator reached the ground floor, Sinclair stole a quick kiss.  "I know.  Why do you think I'm not arguing about the mattress? Matter of fact, I think we should christen it as soon as we get it home."

"Now that sounds like a plan!"

They walked through the lobby and out to Peter's car, parked down the block.

Turning momentarily serious, Sinclair asked, "Think Alexander suspects?  About us, I mean."

Knowing the importance of his answer, but also knowing Peter needed honesty, Stone said, "It's possible.  He's not blind, Pete.  But I think we played it just right to keep him guessing for awhile longer."

"He'll find out.  One of these days."

"Probably."

"That doesn't bother you?" Sinclair marveled.

"Not really.  My life's my own now, Pete.  And if I want to spend it making love with a man, that's my choice."

"I wish I could say that about my life.  But I can't."

Meeting his gaze, Stone nodded.  "I know.  You want us in the closet, we're in the closet.  No problem."

Sinclair smiled gratefully as he pulled out into traffic.  "Thanks, Stone."

"Hey, what are partners for?"

"I can think of several things," the blond leered as they pulled up to a traffic light.

"Damn."  Stone shifted in his seat.  "Better get that mattress quick!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Bennett placed a stack of files on Mr. Addington's desk.  "Ms. Previn asked that I deliver these to you, sir.  The latest proposals awaiting your decision."

"Yes, thank you, Bennett."  The industrialist sat behind his desk, absently fingering his cane.

"Do you believe their story, sir?" Bennett dared to ask.

"Who?  You mean Stone and Sinclair?"  That got Addington's attention.  "Why, Bennett!  Have you been eavesdropping?"  He pretended to be shocked.

Whereupon Bennett pretended offense.  "Of course not, Mr. Addington!  I was in your private restroom unclogging that stubborn drain.  I couldn't help but hear."

"Of course, of course."  Addington smiled, relishing the playing of this very old game.  "I might have believed their story, if either one of them had believed it.  But if there's something they want me to know, I'll find out in good time.  There are some things which are better left unsaid, Bennett."

"Yes, sir.  Will that be all?"

"Thank you, Bennett."  Alexander watched the other man leave before turning back to contemplate the view from his penthouse window.

He did indeed have his suspicions regarding the exact nature of the relationship between Hector Stone and Peter Sinclair.  But both were intensely private men, and both had been hurt badly in affairs of the heart.  What their boss didn't know, or what they _thought_ he didn't know, made life less complicated all around.

Alexander knew all too well that loving someone made them hostages to fortune.  He'd hate to see that happen to either man.

Still, they obviously counted the cost worth the risk.  As he had once.  A shiver crawled up his back as a shadow passed over the sun.  He found himself about to genuflect, then frowned.

"You're getting old and superstitious, Alexander," he chided, turning back to the desk and reaching for the first file.  A sudden idea apprehended him and he keyed Ms. Previn's line.

"Yes, Mr. Addington?"

"Contact Mr. Sinclair.  Tell him he's to assist Mr. Stone in whatever manner is required.  And tell him I don't want to see either of them for the next two days!"  He put enough roar in his voice to feign anger, knowing she'd pass the tone along.

"Yes, Mr. Addington."

He frowned.  Was that a smile he'd heard?  He must be getting soft.  Oh well, love did that to a person, didn't it?

Good heavens, what was he thinking?

It must be something in the air…

 

 

~ fin ~

 


End file.
